SAVAGE LOVE

Chapter 13

He was delusional.

Don’t worry, I’m sure your soulmate is out there somewhere, pushing a pull door. Happy times all round when you meet her.

I did enjoy winding him up. It was a shame I couldn’t see his face as he read my messages. Twisting the knife at just the right time was my forte, after all.

Michael - Well just so you know, the trash gets picked up tomorrow. Be careful they don’t take you too.

Did he just call me trash? Hell no, I wasn’t letting that one go.

Trash? Really? What language are you speaking exactly, because it sounds like

bullshit! Don’t you have anything better to do than phone stalk me?

I sat down on the ridiculously comfy couch to wait for his reply. I couldn’t keep the smile from spreading over my face as the dots continued to dance around. This was actually fun, in a weird, sadistic way. Well, it was a welcome distraction from the pain of missing my boyfriend, and having to do the devil’s bidding for the next three months.

Michael - You’re such a treasure, aren’t you? I’d happily bury you...alive.

Treasure, bury, ha! He thought he was so funny.

And there it goes again, that feeling of Deja Poo. You know, when I think I’ve heard all of this crap before. Go and make someone else’s day hell, Lucifer.

My sensible side was urging me to turn off my phone and end this now, but where was the fun in that? My sassy side always won out.

Michael - You have a pet name for me already, that’s sweet. You do know, Lucifer means light bearer. I’m glad you hold me in such high esteem.

Trust him to put a positive spin on it.

Hmm, light like the sun... painful to look at or be around for too long. Or maybe a star? Because let’s face it, one of these days you’re gonna crash and burn.

Point to Bianca, take that asshole.

Michael - We can’t all be perfect like you, can we? It must be so exhausting, putting make-up on both of your faces in the morning.

Whatever, asshat. Bring it on.

As fun as this is, I have better things to do...like check out my prison for the next three months.

I was expecting a message back about prisons and dungeons, or something slave related. What I got totally threw me.

Michael - I’ll be home around seven with some Chinese. What do you like?

Jesus, did this guy actually think I’d eat food with him and play house like some kind of fool?

I’d like to not see your smug-ass face unless I really have to, so stuff your Chinese.

I was actually salivating at the thought of a Chinese, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.

Six hours later, the aromas of sweet and sour and other Chinese delights wafted their way down to my new bedroom/cell, but I tried really hard not to let them affect me. The cheese sandwich I’d made in haste before he came home looked so unappealing. I still stuffed it in my mouth in an attempt to appease my hunger. I didn’t want to go out there. I didn’t want to see him yet; I didn’t feel ready. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like we hadn’t spoken, or argued before, but this time, being on his territory with no way out, it all felt different. It was more personal, and I wasn’t one step ahead this time. He held all the power and I didn’t like it.

He hadn’t come knocking on my door last night. I spent most of the evening dreading the impending visit, but it never came. I heard him out in the living room watching T.V., then having a shower in another bathroom down the hall. But I had no desire to come out of my assigned room to see him. I felt much safer locked up in my plush ‘cell’, trying to ring and message my boyfriend. I got no response. I should’ve realized he’d have his phone confiscated as soon as he checked into rehab. But I’d still hoped for some contact before he turned it in for ninety days.

My stomach rumbled as I rolled over in bed and smelt the freshly brewed coffee permeating through the apartment. Damn, I was going to have to bite the bullet and go out there, wasn’t I? Either that, or starve to death in here. The lure of decent coffee and maybe a pastry or two was too tempting though. Even I would run the gauntlet of the devil for that kind of start to my day.

I threw on my skinny jeans and a vest top, and cautiously ventured out of the room. I fluffed my wayward curls into some semblance of a style as I crept down the corridor and into the living room. I could hear movement in the kitchen, the usual clinking of cutlery and clattering of cups and plates.

“Hello, love. You must be Bianca.”

I jumped out of my skin at the sound of an older lady’s voice behind me. I turned to see a woman in her late fifties, maybe early sixties, smiling at me. She had her dark brown hair tied up into a bun, and the polish and duster in her hand gave her identity away. So that’s who puts the feminine touch to his lair. His housekeeper.

“Erm, hello.” I winced, feeling like a teenager caught out by her parents the morning after the night before.

“I’ve brewed a fresh pot of coffee and there’s pancakes and waffles in the kitchen. Fresh fruit too. I wasn’t sure what to get you for breakfast. Michael said he had a guest staying, but I’m not used to catering for anyone else, only him.”

Her kind eyes went all fuzzy when she talked about him. I decided then and there that she must have a soft spot for all things occult. How else could I explain her warm, fuzzy glow when she looked towards the closed kitchen door, thinking about the owner within?

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to go to any trouble on my account. I’ll eat anything.”

She rubbed my arm as if she were soothing me. Why? I had no idea. Then she turned on her heels and went off down the corridor, humming some classical tune as she went.

I braced myself, taking a deep breath in, and then I headed into the kitchen.

“And so she appears. I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I was.”

I stood, still clutching the door, not trusting my feet to make the short walk over to the island in the middle. It was a shame really, because there was a feast of fruits, yoghurts, French pastries, waffles, and pancakes piled up in the middle. It looked amazing, better than a hotel breakfast spread, and I loved those.

Michael stood, leaning up against the marble work surface, sipping his coffee, all poised and ready to attack. He was dressed in his usual uniform; black tailored suit, white shirt, dark grey tie. He looked ever the gentleman and totally the sinner that he was. He was smirking at my discomfort, no doubt revelling in the fact that I was uneasy. I wanted to pick up the nearest croissant and throw it at his head. Why did he have to have such a massive hold over mine and Timothy’s happiness? I hated him, and I never hated anyone.

“I just met your housekeeper, or is she another one of your whores?”

I felt bad as soon as it came out of my mouth. I didn’t think for a second that the gentle, lovely lady I’d just met was anything other than an employee to him. But my brain didn’t work on the same time-zone as my mouth when I was around Michael Douglas.

His face screwed up with disgust as he pushed away from the counter.

“Don’t ever disrespect Clare in my presence again.”

He strode over to where I stood and glared down at me. I wilted under his scornful demeanour, but stood my ground as best I could.

“She is a lady and a very respectable housekeeper who’s worked for me for nearly a decade. She’s been married to the same man for forty-two years. I doubt you and your druggie boyfriend will make forty-two weeks.”

The vitriol he was unleashing should’ve made me turn and run, but I wasn’t a quitter.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it. She seems… nice.”

He appeared taken aback by my apology and moved a step backwards.

“She is.”

He spun round and stalked over to the sink, pouring the rest of his coffee down the drain as he spoke.

“Eat. Clare wanted to make you feel at home so she brought all this for you. God knows why.”

I huffed at his final little dig at me.

“Well, she’s nice, isn’t she? Not like some people I could mention. She must be the yin to your yang.”

He smirked that stupid, handsome, devil smirk that made me want to punch something, and pushed past me into the living room.

“Your sparkling wit and humour will be required tonight, Bianca.”

Why did he always have to say my name like it was a dirty thing?

“Great, can’t wait,” I replied in a sarcastic tone as I rolled my eyes at him.

“You can keep the eye rolling to a minimum too.”

How had he seen that? Was there a mirror in front of him? I rolled my eyes again anyway.